The Yoke

The year 2022 may have eased the effects of the global pandemic, but my life didn’t return to normal. Yes, I could go to in-person gatherings, restaurants, and social events without the withering restrictions created by two years of the Covid global siege.

But, let’s face it—life was tough before Covid. People were cagey and contentious well before masks and vaccines, so navigating daily life continued to be a minefield. My family was still struggling with relational separation and heartache that didn’t show any signs of letting up. And layered on top of all that sat a painful shoulder injury that wouldn’t heal on its own. My doctors asked how I tore the tendon in my right rotator cuff, but I honestly had no memory of when it happened. It just started hurting in December of last year and ramped up to unbearable by mid-May.

I agreed to get the recommended surgery, but not before I traveled to two out-of-state writers conferences in June as I pushed forward on a big project that held great promise.

Because that’s what I do, what I’ve always done. Just bear down, put your shoulder to the plow, and push through it.

But when the nerve block wore off 24 hours after surgery, I awakened to a new level of pain that afforded me zero ability to push through anything. Now I’m no stranger to major, back-searing, gut-wrenching surgeries, but this one took me surprise. I was not prepared for a pain that swallowed me whole and left me helpless.

I also woke up from surgery wearing a huge, strapping sling that my very helpful orthopedic surgeon told me, in stern tones, I must wear 24/7 for at least six weeks. I had no ability to move my right arm, even though I’m a righty, which required that I suddenly become ambidextrous. Everything I did felt messy, clumsy, and awkward.

“It’ll get better honey,” my valiant, long-suffering husband assured me in soothing tones as I sat at the kitchen table, a soppy puddle of tears. But I was inconsolable and could not forecast when my miserable mood would lift.

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, you know that I believe God is always up to something, even when (or perhaps especially when) trouble comes to call like an unwelcome guest. So when this scripture continued to appear during my morning prayers like that small triangle that rises to the window of a Magic 8 Ball, I thought I should pay attention:

Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.  Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)

Jesus isn’t just the Savior of my soul—he is also the most loving, merciful, powerful friend I have ever known. So I knew his intentions towards me were good when he spoke this loving truth into my heart. But when I looked down at the huge, cumbersome sling that encased my upper body, his yoke didn’t feel at all light or easy to bear. This sling, the yoke that he placed around me, forced me into confinement, a reminder that I was weak and injured. The sling protected me from my tendency to push myself into doing hard tasks that would harm me. Grueling pain prevented me from lifting my hand to my computer keyboard, fixing my hair, or dressing myself.

But what about that “rest for my soul” his words promised? How would that even be possible? I sensed, deep in my spirit, that I had to let something go, surrender some part of my self-redemptive character to Jesus so that I could experience true rest.

As it turned out, there wasn’t really anything I needed to do to physically recover and heal from this injury. Greg was my constant companion and lovingly took care of my daily needs. I read a lot of books and eliminated that toppling “to read” pile that cluttered my bedside table. I took slow, meandering walks through my neighborhood and chatted with neighbors I only had time to wave at during the last twenty years. I devoted myself to daily, centering prayer, using a beautiful app that deepened my dependence and intimacy with God. These things were all good, but I was still sad, and even a little resentful, that it was taking so long to feel better.

Which is when God made things just a little more clear.

Many hardships I have endured over the course of my life were allegories for some deeper problem where  God was at work. This situation was one of them.

It’s true I had blown out my shoulder, most likely from years of over-exertion. So what if that box is heavy—I can lift it. Ignore that pain when you do yoga or work out at the gym because no pain—no gain, right?  But there was something more going on.

I shoulder way too much of the load. I do that with just about everything in my life. I carry burdens that are too much for me, that are not mine to bear. I’ll carry yours if you ask me to. I’ve done it for as long as I can remember. And it isn’t just God I don’t share the load with—I don’t ask for help from too many humans either.

I would like to tell you that my load-carrying capacity is something noble, a pureness of heart that drives me to help others around me. But that’s only a partial truth. What I like is the ability to move things. I take special pride in the strength and perseverance it takes to accomplish hard tasks. This attitude surfaced in June in my response to a literary agent who told me that my proposed project would be a hard book to write. “Yeah, but I can do hard,” I said with conviction. And I meant it.

Also, if I handle everything myself, then I get all the credit, right? Wrong. I get worn out, fall apart, and land on the injured reserve list.

The yoke that Jesus required me to carry was a merciful lesson that extended well beyond my physical healing:

Stop shouldering the load for every detail in your life. You don’t control the outcome anyway. Let go of your pride and self-reliance. Take my easy yoke and let me carry the weight of your life. It really is too much for you to bear. Let me hold you so you can rest.

I am learning the gentle art of letting go. I encourage you to consider doing this too. Stop hustling so hard. Let go of people and circumstances that are not your responsibility. Trust God more with the things that matter the most to you. Give your shoulders a break and enter the peaceful rest that God longs to give to you.